


Water is a Tasteless Nothing

by CityOfScreams



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Depressed Spock, I don't know what tags will be on this yet, forgot i just liked writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityOfScreams/pseuds/CityOfScreams
Summary: Spock falls asleep on a bus, when he wakes up, he is lost.He finds mysterious things as he tries to find his way back home.





	1. Chapter 1

Dark streets lit by amber street lights, a chill sweeping down the road side, cold eats away at aching jaws. The distant blasting of a song muffled into blurriness was the tell tale sign it was Saturday. So thats what day it is? He had been wondering. His heart ached as his hand went to grip around his chest. Always so close, but still, he never got closer. The days mean nothing and with no real accomplishments he finds himself wondering what accomplishments could possibly be made to fill this gap he feels, but he wasn’t sure it even was a gap. A chasm, an old warriors wound, blindness, forgetfulness, physically a missing organ, all possible things this could be. Everyone else fills the gap with love, children, yet he thinks that couldn’t make anything any better, and bringing a child to life who would at some point only wonder why there was a gap in their being, and what they should fill it with, would only be cruel and selfish, especially one with his hybrid DNA. Maybe it was something else. An allergy? Aching scars from where he’d been stabbed in a previous life (foolish foolish.)

Still he could feel it all the time, especially when he gave it attention. He was always so busy always so many things to do, and then suddenly, on a day like all the days before, with still all the same goals of the day before that, he’d find himself without a single daily goal, and the hole would seep over him, and he became blind, unable to see what he should do, only aware of this. Of the noise around him, the chill of the air. He sat down on a bench between the bushes. He didn’t need to, he wasn’t far from home, but he didn’t need to do anything. He sighed as his eyes gazed up to the star-full sky. It wasn’t like he couldn’t go up there. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been up there. It was just, now wasn’t a good time. Now wasn’t a logical time. As if logic said much on anything expect binding him to silly rules, and rules that were, oh so, essential for life.

Sometimes he wondered if he bound by his rules stricter, never petting a passing cat. Never allowing a treat to himself, his favourite meal as a dinner (even if it was logical because he needed those nutrients at the time) never letting himself have anything, if this, would go away. What was it humans called it? Minimalism? But he didn’t know what this was. The churning of traffic caught his eyes, as speeding cars sped noisily down the village road, spraying murky water over the pavement.  
Illogical   
They’d kill someone else, again, like that. He sighed as he stood up as a bus came to stop in front of him. Only him. It opened it’s doors. It looked like he was getting on the bus. Not ideal considering the week he’d had. He got on the bus, pushing his finger print into the scanner as he did so. The bus was lit by white lights. There was no one here. He walked down the blue carpet aisle, his feet patting wetly as they did so.   
Why carpets? Why are they always ugly?  
Presumably because they’re going to get dirty.  
Then use no carpets? Strange.  
He took the seat at the back corner, and as the bus sensed his presence it drove again. He had a car, so he hadn’t really taken a bus much since his first year at academy. Still he was glad they had no drivers.  
Why did he get on the bus to save embarrassment to the driver, when the driver was an AI perfectly capable of taking the mistake he’d made. He frowned. He must be tired. Still it was relaxing to watch the lights on the side of the road flicker as they passed. The occasional TV angled out. Cats taking a nervous stroll down the road. He ached. This was good, this was relaxing. Perhaps he just needed to mediate, as his eyes slowly closed and he fell asleep.


	2. 2

Some point, during his childhood waking had turned from a bundle of excitement, a lively new day to the first horrendous chore of the day. That although keeping his eyes open was something he could excel at late into the night, after having them shut for so long they seemed only heavier. Maybe it was dust. What he really need was buff eyelids, so he could awake like he used to do when he was young, yet even if he forced it, bounded out of bed he knew it would be a fake feeling, even if his limbs didn’t ache the bags beneath his eyes would swell and yell at him for hours, until the night came around again.  
Wait.. Did I even go to bed?  
Awakening slowly his eyes on the black window-pane, his head cold from the window he’d been leaning on, he sat up embarrassed and lost.  
Embarrassed and lost, always more than when I was younger.  
Outside there was no road, just sandy dunes, on the bus he was alone. He stood stretching, as he leaned from left to right, his back cracking. He made his way back to the front of the bus, his eyes looking out the window, for any sign or clue, but there was just the bright blue sky.  
Earth presumably.  
He pressed his finger against the thumb scanner.  
If the bill’s over fifty credits I’m not paying it.  
Then you shouldn’t have fell asleep.  
It was you not I.  
Illogical.

The scanner did not alight his finger with acknowledgment, nor did anything happen. He tapped at the touch sensitive screen, but nothing happened. He turned and head to the large glass computer, where bus drivers used to sit. There was still a seat there, emergency protocols they had been there for the police and such, and although rarely used now, it was part of the traditional bus look. The glass that separated the non-existent driver and a passenger was now an advanced touch sensitive computer for those needed to call for emergency help, or planning on road maps. Spock put his finger in the right hand corner, where a thin green circle, with a pale white ‘start’ sat. But it did not abide. The glass was only glass for now. Spock sighed aggravated.  
Thousands fall asleep on busses but when I do it-  
I’m asleep.  
What? I’m not.  
Spock’s eyes darted to either side as he checked the coast was still spookily clear, and he bit down on his wrist, quick to immediately stop.  
This isn’t a dream.  
Idiot.  
What now?  
Learn more about your surroundings.  
Spock pulled the door open by the emergency lock and took a step down to sand. He stepped out the sand engulfed him up to the ankle on his boot.  
Deep.  
Spock waded into the sand, away from the bus, he turned, hoping that this, would give him a better view. Surely this would help his understand. Surely he could gain one knowledge from this, and as he looked at the bus, with no tracks to lead to or from it, he realised, that he had more questions not less. Then the doors of the bus closed, and drove away. The tracks the bus made quickly disappearing in the sinking sand.  
“Okay” Spock nodded and slowly began to follow after the bus, that direction as good as any other.


	3. 3

The boots were gone. It was easy to walk like this. He was a desert species after all. Biology wise, mostly. Except the brain which was a weird mesh of everything. The eyes, human of course, the hair, other features, not even he knew. It was all a mesh really. He wiped his sweating face upon his jumper. He would change the direction he walked in, but none would help him. He was hungry.  
lets get on the bus  
lets not embarrass people  
now i’m here  
in the middle of nowhere  
hungry  
hungry

Pain shot through his heels, through his legs and settling into his knees. He took a deep breath as he turned to look up at the sky to see long spindling birds fly through the air. Their wings were normal to the average seagulls, but their bodies were long and thin, like their tails, like their faces. When one dropped, bombing to the ground and then back up, it hit him and he realised, this was no bird. These, were snakes. Spock sneezed, and the snakes flew up, high into the atmosphere and out of sight.  
“Strange.” He mumbled, and began to wonder what Captain Pike was doing. Probably enjoying shore leave much better than him. He moved another foot in front of the other, for there was no other direction that he could find to be logical.

He’d been following smoke trails for a while, when he found the wooden town. It was a silent town, and as he began to get closer, it remained quiet. There was no one around, an empty wooden rocking horse. He walked down the empty abandoned houses. The saloon seemed welcoming. Or the thought of it did anyway. It had those doors you see in cowboy movies. He could see no one, just the back of pub, with it’s welcoming drinks. Alcohol, but alcohol had no negative effect on him, it actually helped him think. It was also a very good hangover cure, although Spock didn’t know if other vulcans knew that, nor would he ask of it, or maybe he would tell his brother, where-ever he was. Spock was sure he’d bump into him one day. Maybe not within the next decade, but, after that as some point, surely. 

Spock tried to push the doors open, and they open, the second he stepped in they bursted into life. People appeared out of thin air, drinking at tables, yelling, screaming, the general chitter humans make. He walked forth narrowly avoiding fisticuffs that passed him crawling on the floor. Spock warily stepped over the ruckus and walked up to the bar.  
“Morning Sir, what can I get you.”  
“Have you got any water?” Spock asked.  
“Water, no Sir only alcohol here.”  
“Can I have whatever is the weakest then, please.”  
“That would be Cesis beer.”  
“Hah, the weak stuff, I bet you would die after drinking just one gallon of snake juice.” A man said appearing next to him.  
I don’t remember asking for your fucking opinion.  
“Well, firstly I don’t know what a gallon is, and secondly, I’m vegetarian so I probably wouldn’t drink it anyway.”  
“Ha! The cheeky thing-”  
Great you should have ignored him  
“Tell you what, if you drink a bottle of snake juice, I’ll give you some seventy coins.” The cowboy looking fella said as he threw a brown bag on to the table, gold coins rolling out.  
What am I, some sort of whore?  
“Okay then, I will-” Spock said picking up one coin and examining it.  
What is this?  
“You heard the boy, get him a whole bottle! Bets up bets up” the man began to yell standing on the chair “I bet this lade here seventy coins if he drinks snake juice.”  
The pub began to quieten as the group cooed, and oohed.  
Oh great, I bet its not even alcohol it’s actually just poison.

The coo’s cooled down, as the bar tender passed him, a large, cube shaped bottle.  
Four and a half litres? I’ll be pissing buckets until the next century  
Note to me from me, what kind of language is that.  
I actually might be pretty badly de-hydrated. I should generally keep my waters levels up.  
“I’m not sure it’s safe for a human to drink that much liquid.” Spock said to the bartender.  
“We don’t play games for safeness here, Mr Spock.” The bartender said, pushing the bottle without a glass closer to him.  
“I guess” Spock said slowly pulling the cork out the bottle “no glass?”  
“And no sipping either” the cowboy next to him commanded. With that Spock picked the bottle up with ease, and began to drink it. Until there was yelling and chanting around him. Before Spock finished his drink, and collected his coins he took a moment to think.  
Did I tell them my name?


End file.
